


Bronchitis Does Not Go On A Resume

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: ABDL Unsolved [8]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: ABDL, Caretaking, Daddy Play, Diapers, M/M, Sickfic, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Ryan is sick as a dog. Shane comes to take care of him.





	Bronchitis Does Not Go On A Resume

**Author's Note:**

> ... I wanted to write something iddy.

Ryan was sick.

It was the kind of sick he associated with being a kid - the kind of sick where he wasn't good for anything, could barely function as a human being, let alone an adult.

He lay on his couch, vaguely wishing for death, occasionally getting up when he had the energy so he could go pee.

He needed to eat.

He needed to drink more water.

He needed... he needed to do a lot of things.

But when he coughed he worried about peeing himself.

So he didn't drink anything, because... well, he didn't want to pee himself.

This was probably really stupid, come to think of it, but fuck it. 

He was so tired, his head hurt so bad.... 

And then his phone was buzzing.

He fumbled for it, unlocked it, then answered it. 

"Hello?"

"Jesus Christ, Ryan, you sound like death."

Shane's voice was tinny through the speaker.

"Fuck you too, Shane."

"Want some company?"

"Meh."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"If you come over, bring soup," Ryan said.

"Will do," said Shane. "See you after work."

And then he hung up.

Ryan sighed, rolled over on the couch, and fell back asleep. 

* * * 

Ryan was woken up by his doorbell ringing. 

How long had he been sleeping?

Had he ordered food?

Everything was lost in a haze of cough medicine and brain fog.

He opened the door, to find... Shane. 

"Wow," said Shane, and he looked impressed. "You look worse than you sound, and that takes _work_."

"Fuck off," Ryan croaked, but he stepped back, so that Shane could come in. 

"Now," said Shane, "you smell like death." 

"How do you know what death smells like? Have you been around a lot of it?"

"We've been to enough places where people have died," Shane said cheerfully. "C'mon. Let's get you in the tub. "

"I can take a shower," said Ryan, and he sat on the couch, as the floor wobbled. 

"How much cough syrup have you had?"

"I'm not coughing," Ryan said, "so evidently, some."

Shane gave Ryan a slightly worried look, and pressed his hand to Ryan's forehead. 

Ryan made a face - Shane's face was doing that... thing it always did, when he was going into caretaker mode.

Ryan didn't know how to explain that, but then again... well, cough syrup, among other things.

"C'mon," said Shane, and he had an arm around Ryan's shoulders. "I can't really trust you to stay standing up. So let's get you naked, then put you in the tub."

"Did you bring soup?"

"We're gonna order some soup," said Shane.

"I told you to bring soup," Ryan said, indignant as ever.

Shane snorted, and he sat Ryan on the toilet seat. 

"I'm bringing it by proxy." 

"By proxy?"

"Yeah. Because of me, there will be soup. Arms up."

Ryan lifted his arms up, and his shirt was pulled up and off, and then he was having his pajama pants pulled off as well.

"I guess I can't argue with that."

"So you don't need to," said Shane, and he kissed the top of Ryan's head. 

"Hmph," said Ryan.

"You're the most put upon, aren't you?"

Shane's voice was teasing, as he knelt down in front of Ryan, pulling Ryan's socks off carefully. 

"The most," Ryan said, and he took a deep breath, then... started coughing. 

It was incredibly unpleasant - the kind of coughing that felt like someone was tearing at his throat, and he was curling forward, nearly hitting Shane in the face, and he was... fuck, he was pissing himself.

He'd barely drunk any water all day, so how was he actually able to piss in the first place?

He was pissing himself, across the closed lid of the toilet, and it was getting on Shane's socks.

At least Shane didn't look angry.

... that was good.

"Welp," said Shane, "this is what I get for...."

"What, not being psychic?"

"I don't fuckin' know," said Shane. "Not diapering you."

"I've literally been home alone all day," said Ryan. "When would you have done that."

"Shush," said Shane. "Into the tub, I'll rinse you off, then you can have a nice soak, we can clean things up, we'll go from there."

"Okay," said Ryan, too tired to really argue.

And then he was being shuffled into the bathtub, and he was sitting down, as the water was turned on.

Truth be told, he was drifting. 

He was very much drifting, off to sea. 

Only not to sea, because he was tired and still at home, so no ocean.

Was his mind even making sense?

He closed his eyes, and he let himself relax into the hot water, as Shane shuffled around, mopping the floor, cleaning off the top of the toilet, then coming back, barefoot. 

“Hey buddy,” said Shane. “You look horrible.”

‘So’s your face,” Ryan said.

“I’ve been around you while you’re sick,” said Shane. “Usually you’re not this belligerent. What’s up?”

“It’s been a _week_ ,” Ryan said, and his voice was just a long, drawn out whine. “My head still hurts, my chest hurts, I keep coughing….”

As if on cue, he started coughing.

Shane gave him a strong whack on the back, and then he was coughing up… well, best not to think about that.

He was breathing again, which was the important part.

It was chunky and uncomfortable breathing, but still. 

"Have you been to the doctor?" 

"No," Ryan said. "It's probably just a bad cold."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds something like bronchitis to me," said Shane.

"Do you have much experience with it?"

"Not, like, experience-experience," said Shane. "I wouldn't put it on my resume."

"I don't think you could put that on a resume," said Ryan. 

"That's why I wouldn't put it on," said Shane. 

He was sitting on the floor, soaping up a washcloth, then beginning to wash Ryan's chest.

"I thought you wouldn't put it on because you don't have enough experience," said Ryan.

"Oh, that too," said Shane, and he was pushing Ryan's arm up, beginning to wash under Ryan's arm. 

"Oh," said Ryan, and then he was coughing again, his heart thudding in his ears, and his head hurt, his everything hurt.

He got another whack on the back, and he leaned over & spat out more gross gunk into the uncovered toilet, then sighed. 

"If you're still coughing like that tomorrow, we're going to the doctor," said Shane.

"Who is this "we," exactly?"

"Ryan, I don't entirely trust you not to just pass out in the back of an Uber, let alone drive. I'm gonna take you to the doctor."

"What if people... think things?"

Ryan was aware of how weak his argument sounded, but he wanted to put up at least a token protest.

Save his dignity or something.

Shane paused. 

"Do you, uh... do you not want anyone to think we're dating or anything?"

He looked faintly stricken, and Ryan was kicking himself.

... mentally, obviously. 

"No, no, I'm fine with him knowing we're dating," said Ryan. "I just know that you seem to, uh, seem to be stuck in caretaker mode, and I don't want the doctor to catch on to the fact that we've got a weird kinky dynamic thing."

He leaned back, as Shane washed his legs, his feet, and his cock - it was almost entirely clinical, which Ryan was grateful for.

He was too tired for anything sexy. 

"Oh," said Shane, and then he was grinning. "You don't think I can be subtle?"

He gently leaned Ryan forward, and he began to wash Ryan's back. 

"I don't think you're the best at it, no," said Ryan. 

Shane took a cup of water, and he dumped it over Ryan's head. 

Ryan sputtered.

"I'm going to get sicker if you do that," he told Shane. 

"Washing your hair isn't going to get you sick," said Shane. "That's an old wives tale."

He poured shampoo into his hands, and began to wash Ryan's hair. 

His fingers were very gentle, and the very tips of his fingers were sending little tingles down Ryan's back, as they moved across Ryan's scalp. 

"But if I go to sleep with wet hair...."

"I'm not gonna let you go to sleep before your hair is dry," said Shane. "Now close your eyes. I'm gonna rinse you off."

"Right," said Ryan. 

* * *

Ryan was rinsed off, taken out of the bath, and toweled off. 

Then he looked at Shane, his head throbbing, and then he looked at the little cup Shane was holding out to him.

"What's this?"

"Cough syrup," said Shane. 

"Do I have to?"

"Yep."

"Can't I have it after food?"

"I'm genuinely worried you're gonna choke from too much coughing," said Shane. 

"But my dinner is gonna taste horrible," Ryan said, aware that he was whining, not sure how to stop. 

"Will you have some tea with honey, at least?"

"Do you wanna give me botulism?"

... and then Ryan was laughing.

Just full on laughing, which was turning into ugly coughing, and he was gasping, beginning to wheeze, and that had him laughing harder, and then he was being aimed over the sink, and he was coughing up more... well. 

That wasn't pleasant, but at least it wasn't in him anymore, and Shane was turning the water on, washing it down the drain. 

"What are you talking about?"

Shane looked faintly baffled. 

"... you know, because, uh, I'm Little. And babies can't have honey, because botulism."

"Wait, honey can give babies botulism?"

Shane looked nervous. 

"Yeah," said Ryan. "You didn't know that?"

"I didn't know that," said Shane. "Shit. Although you're not actually a baby, so I don't have to worry about that, do I?"

Ryan blushed, biting his lip. 

"So," Shane said, rubbing his hands together, "let's get you diapered up, I'll make some tea, we can order some dinner, veg out, and if you're still feeling like crap, we can go to the doctor tomorrow."

"I don't wanna go to the doctor," Ryan said. 

“Well, I don’t want you to die of bronchitis,” said Shane. 

“I’m not gonna _die_ ,” Ryan said, scandalized. 

Shane snorted, and he herded Ryan into the bedroom. 

“C’mon,” said Shane. “Let’s get you dipped up.”

Ryan was… compliant, sleepy and a bit loopy as he lay back, although he started to cough, and he was being helped up again.

“Okay,” said Shane, his expression thoughtful. “We’re gonna have to do this a little differently.”

“We are?”

“I don’t want you to start coughing again, and that seems to happen when you’re lying flat.” 

“Right,” Ryan said, his head a bit… elsewhere. 

He let Shane fumble open a diaper, spreading his legs when he needed to, taping things up.

Ryan let himself drift, let Shane talk to him quietly about this and that - it wasn’t much of anything, it seemed - Shane didn’t seem to be trying to be getting his attention. 

But then Shane was… tapping him on the shoulder.

Huh. 

“What?”

“I said,” Shane said, “what do you want to wear for your pajamas?”

Ryan looked down at his lap, the diaper thick enough to keep his legs open, soft and padded. 

“Shirt?”

“No pants?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Fair enough,” said Shane. “Which shirt?”

“Don’t care,” Ryan said, and he yawned, wide enough that his jaw clacked. 

“Wow,” said Shane, and he kissed Ryan’s forehead, frowning. “You are out of it, aren’t you?”

He went to the drawer, and then he was holding up a purple shirt, printed with Snoopy. 

“Aw, you kept the shirt I got you,” he said. 

Ryan grinned, looking a bit embarrassed.

“You got it for me at Knott’s. Of course I kept it,” said Ryan. 

“You big softie,” said Shane, and then he was pulling the shirt over Ryan’s head, as it settled on Ryan’s body, draped comfortably across him. 

He sat down next to Ryan, and Ryan rested his head on Shane’s shoulder.

Shane kissed Ryan’s temple.

“You stay there,” Shane said, disentangling himself. “Where’s your thermometer?”

“Thermometer?”

“I need to check your temperature.”

“Are you going to put it into my butt?”

“No, I’m not gonna put it into your butt. Unless it’s specifically made to go in your butt.”

“No,” Ryan said. “Why would I get a thermometer specifically for my butt?”

“I don’t know,” said Shane, and there was the sound of him rummaging around the medicine cabinet, and then he was coming out, wearing an expression that could best be read as “triumphant.”

“I don’t just, like, stick stuff in my butt for the sake of sticking stuff in my butt,” said Ryan. 

“Hm?”

Shane was squinting at the digital thermometer, shaking it. 

“If I’m gonna put something in my butt, I want to… y’know, have a good reason to do it. To enjoy it.”

“That makes sense,” said Shane. “Now open up, and no talking.”

“But -”

The thermometer was shoved into Ryan’s mouth, and Ryan… closed it, sitting there in a t-shirt and a thick diaper. 

He didn’t have anything to say, anything to do. 

He let his eyes slide shut, and he tried not to start coughing.

“You’re being a good boy,” Shane said, his tone affectionate. “We’ll order some dinner in. How do you feel about Chinese?”

Ryan gave a thumbs up. 

Shane snorted.

“You’re cute,” he told Ryan. 

“Mmm,” Ryan said around the thermometer.

The thermometer beeped, and Shane took it out of Ryan’s mouth. 

“Yeah… you’re still too hot,” said Shane.

“I thought you always thought I was hot,” said Ryan. 

“Oh my god,” said Shane, and he groaned. “Let’s get you some water.” 

“Water?”

“Yes. You need to drink more water, clearly. You look dehydrated.”

“Do I?”

“Your loopiness is probably related to that, I think so,” said Shane. “C’mon, bud. We’re going to the couch.”

“Okay,” said Ryan, sleepy and compliant. 

It was kind of nice - since Shane had come over, he’d slid into his Little headspace without much thought. 

Well… something like his Little headspace.

Quieter.

Especially when his everything hurt. 

So he sat on the couch, and he let Shane wrap him in a blanket, and even took the bottle of water.

“I want you to finish this before dinner comes, okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan mumbled, pressing his face into the cushions of the couch, beginning to nurse from the bottle in a lackadaisical way, and the cool water was sweet against his tongue. 

And then Shane was crowding next to Ryan, hip to hip, and Shane was going through a Chinese food menu on his phone.

“What would you like?”

“Soup,” Ryan said, and he rested his head on Shane’s shoulder, and he kept sucking on the nipple, drinking more water, letting it slosh down into his belly, down his throat.

He was going to piss like a racehorse later.

But for now, it was just cool and calming. 

“What kinda soup?”

“Duck soup,” said Ryan. 

“Isn’t that a Marx brothers movie?”

Ryan snickered, and took another slug of water.

“I mean,” Ryan said, “yeah, but still.”

“Understood,” said Shane, and he clicked a button, then quickly found whatever it was that he wanted. 

“Anything else?”

Ryan shook his head, and he yawned. 

“You just wanna go to sleep, don’t you?”

Shane’s tone as kind.

Ryan nodded.

“You do that,” said Shane. “I’ll get you the cough syrup when you wake up.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, not paying any attention. 

* * *

The food came. 

Ryan had his dinner, slowly. 

Shane had put a bib on him, and he was too tired to really argue about it, just accepted it. 

And then it as more water, and tea, and cough syrup, and Ryan was wrapped in a blanket.

He was wet, he was tired, and he was loopy as hell.

“Hey Shane?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” said Shane, and he kissed the top of Ryan’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com


End file.
